Redemption with an After-taste of Urine

Jeff.

After that, everything changed. Well, except my desire to fit in. I went to a party a month later and after turning down several offers for a beer, I finally caved and opened up a can of Miller Genuine Draft.

I took one sip of it after my laudable month of sobriety, and it tasted a little sour to me. Assuming that I was a little "out of practice," I took another swig. This time, it tasted awful, almost like urine (how I know the difference is an entirely different story). I was puzzled - I had always enjoyed the taste of beer since 8th grade.

Apparently, my new life with God would not be so easily thwarted by a simple act of disobedience. This was my first stepping stone towards the grace. So, I took the hint, and stopped drinking.

My life wasn't just about me any more. Apparently, "getting saved" (I hated that term, by the way) was more than just asking Jesus into my heart; it was his allowing me into his.

The kingdom of God invaded my life that day, and I knew that it was just the beginning. He was allowing his will to be done in me, so that it could be done in the lives of others - in the world, even.

As the transformation played itself out, I realized that I couldn't live my life according to my own standards any more. Rather, I had to walk according to what this new Spirit inside of me was telling me to do. My life of relativism had taken a turn toward the universal.

I had a friend who became so convinced of this fact that she covered her Bible with a piece of paper, some tape, and Sharpie marker ink that read: "THE TRUTH." It wasn't just a book to her; it was the essence of Truth itself, and she wanted to live by it.

As I read this Truth, certain words stuck out to me, red ones in particular, words that told me to love my neighbor, to hate my own life, to give to the poor, and preach good news to the broken and destitute. I found that whatever color the letters were, they were powerful, telling me to do things that I didn't want to do.

Empowered by God and no longer by my own good intentions, I set out to follow those words, and that led me to a place I really didn't want to go. But somehow, ironically, I knew that it was where I was supposed to be. And when I got there, there was, finally, peace.

Cool Like Fresh Water

Jeff.

I had become such a "pro" at going to church, even reading the Bible, and then justifying the rest of my sinful life that I didn't feel any guilt about my wayward lifestyle. I didn't even sense the emptiness inside of me. Morality and purpose were all lost in a haze of angst and confusion. I remember hearing once something in the Scriptures about "do not judge," and that sounded pretty good to me, so I quoted it and lived by it, while aching inside me persisted.

Then, one day, I said "sorry" to God. It must've been watching that stupid train and having semi-existential thoughts that made me do it. I paid my penance to whatever Spirit in the sky was watching me. That seemed like the pious thing to do, but once I opened up my heart to an aloof moral authority, all kinds of confession began pouring out.

I literally repented of things I didn't even know were wrong; somehow, facing a holy God brought conviction and guilt to a whole new level. My own attempts at self-justification just seemed petty in light of the Spirit that was bringing me to face my own dirty reflection in the mirror. The clouds were clearing, but what an awful thing to admit that my version of clarity had been obscured by the haziness of selfishness and pride.

I prayed. And as I brought events from my life - dark things that I had tried to forget - to light, it brought a strange sense of peace in my life. It felt like a release.

It wasn't like the feeling of a hot shower after a long day's work or the feeling of filling your stomach after going a full day without not eating. It was not even like washing the dirt off of an old building to discover something beautiful underneath the grime. It was more.

It felt like doing something dangerous for the very first time - like riding a roller-coaster - and instantly loving it. It felt like true intimacy without the anxiety. It felt like starting over, but in no way that I had ever before known. It was like what I imagine the earth "feels" after a long drought, when the rain comes...

Then, I was struck with this tingling physical sensation. It tickled my muscles and skin, but also brought about an intense emotional release - pain and relief, joy and sadness, all at once. It was like cool water, rushing all over my body - warm enough to not make one shiver, yet cool enough to bring about an entirely cleansing feeling.

Without knowing why, I started weeping. At that moment, every silly little story I had ever heard about a Jewish rabbi healing others, feeding others, and dying for others became true. I can't explain it, but at that moment, I knew that I was forgiven. I finally comprehended what it meant for Jesus to die for my sins and to wash all of my shame away for good.

Cloudy But Awaiting the Rainfall

Jeff

Jesus has continued to disrupt my definition of "normal" as I've walked with him through the years. I keep having to adapt and grow, always by stepping into uncomfortable, and even sometimes messy, places.

For those who are accustomed to comfort and complacency, I've heard that it can feel a bit like life as you know it coming to an utter ruin. I've even heard people use the word "wrecked" when referring to how God won them over to his agenda.

For the longest time, life was fuzzy for me - like trying to see the ground from an airplane that's flying through the clouds. Everything is translucent at best, and you struggled to understand where you are or even where you might be going. But anyone who understands the weather knows that clouds can only fill up with so much darkness, before the cleansing comes.

I myself was wrecked one day, driving home from work one summer, having spent the day in boredom at my telesales job trying to stay awake in between phone calls in which I asked people to take a general health survey, which I swore to them was for their own good.

On the drive, I was stopped at the railroad tracks, waiting for one of those interminable trains that always seem to take longer in the summer. As I was I was watching the train cars roll by, something caused me to think about life in general, about the mystery of time.

I guess it was just the movement of the train, but I was led into almost a trance, in which I had to face the unavoidable fact that life is, indeed, short, and that I had better make mine count for something.

I started reflecting on how I had spent the past weekend: getting drunk before 7pm, trying to "score" with the old homecoming chick who dumped me after one date, pulling off my belt and swinging it around my head like a sash, mooning my friends, and passing out on the couch. I had to have others help me remember certain pieces of the evening, but I do remember trying to "force" myself on that girl, and her rejecting my attempts.

Fortunately, in between her pushing me away and my calling her less-than-chivalrous names, I gave up, frustrated, and lost consciousness.

When I woke up that next morning, I couldn't face her or any of my friends. I was more ashamed than I had ever been before, because I thought that I could never do anything "that bad." Granted, I didn't have sex with her (or anyone up to that point in my life), but I knew that I probably would have if I hadn't passed out. It's a sickening feeling to realize that you're not good as you think. I came to grips with the fact that if I were left to my own devices, there was no level of depravity to which I would not sink.

To be continued...